Paper Sheets

Lay me across your sheets of white, hold me as a poet fingers her pen, caressing with the passion of expression. Draw me close, then color me with the ink of passion, kiss me, roll me off your tongue, and play with me as a poet plays with words. Blanket me with your fevered inspiration, sketch me crimson in your mind's fire. I want to burn there as a memory, make you savor me like a poet does her thoughts, then tarry in the draw off of your pen. I want to feel the breathless rush, climax as a poet slamming her read and leaving the voyeurs lusting for more. Later, we can separate the wrinkled sheets, unfold what came of night and you can write me again, better, as a poet would Play with me, as a poet does.